Is it just me or do others have strange emotional attachments to certain items of clothing?
There are the polka dot fleece PJ bottoms that I wore all the time through both of my pregnancies and hospitalizations for both kids. I know I will never throw them away. There is the pink tankini top that while in the hospital after Max was born, in a fog, during a severe bout of frustration and in a drug induced haze I determinedly cut and tied the strap on so I could get it over my IV laden arm so that I could change out of that horrid hospital gown and back into MY clothes (including the polka dot pj bottoms). It too will never go.
What is strange to me is that these clothes don't necessarily bring back great memories. Most definitely some of the memories are great, but there are also extremely mixed up, dreadful, scary moments of my life.
I think its my desire to never forget what I went through to be here with these two beautiful, smart, sweet, adorable children. Not to dwell in what might not have been, but instead to remind myself to cherish what is and to not sweat the small stuff. It will never cease to amaze me how easily I can be taken back to such a distinctive, specific time of my life in an instant.
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